


Everything's Going to be Okay

by Bluspirit92



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5536829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluspirit92/pseuds/Bluspirit92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott Lang can't breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything's Going to be Okay

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to write angel fic, torchwood fic and daredevil fic, but somehow I ended up writing ant-man fic instead. What the hell. 
> 
> So, I've had some mild panic attacks and did some basic research to write this, but if anything is way wrong or bad, tell me and I'll change it or delete it. I don't want to hurt or offend anyone with this.

It's a normal Tuesday. A normal mission. Nothing has gone horribly wrong. Yet. There's still time, especially considering his history. 

And still, Scott can't breathe. He's cold, has goosebumps even though it's warm out and hotter in the ridiculous suit (why Hank won't let him make the tiniest modifications is a mystery). The warm air is pressing in around him and smothering him, suffocating him. He's sweating. But he's cold, so cold. He sinks to the ground and leans against the wall, holding his head in his hands in the hopes that the world will stop spinning. 

His world is shrinking, and not in the Ant-Man way. In the all he can focus on is the wall across from him way. In the he feels like his consciousness has shrunk while his body is too big way. 

His hands are shaking, and odds are he's going to hit the buttons on the gloves by accident and shrink. That thought makes him feel like he's choking even more. He tries to pull the gloves off but his hand are trembling too bad. In fact, his whole body is shivering. His heart won't stop pounding and he's hyperventilating in an effort to get air but it's not helping. 

It's probably the loud rapid breathing that clues the others in that something is wrong. That and the lack of stupid comments and questions. If Scott’s not making a fool of himself in some new and exciting way, something must be very wrong. 

"Scott? Scott?" Hope asks, no real panic in her voice yet. She trusts him, at least a little. 

He can’t respond. Can’t make his voice work. He sucks in more air but it just makes him feel like he’s going to throw up. 

“Scott?” and this time there’s worry. “Is something happening? What’s wrong?”

He knows exactly what’s wrong. This has happened before. Though he can’t see any of his triggers here, doesn’t know why this is happening. Still, he knows how to deal with this, he just can’t think. He knows what this is. He just can’t get the words out to tell her. 

She doesn't say anything for a few moments, but he knows she’s still listening, still thinking. 

“Okay, Scott, I think you’re having a panic attack,” 

“No shit!” he wants to shout at her, but his voice, his throat, isn’t working any better. 

Hope starts talking again and it’s taking all his effort to focus on that. She definitely just googled panic attacks and hoped for the best. “You’re going to have to take deep slow breaths, okay? I need you to slow your breathing down,” 

Again, he wants to shout,“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?” but again, no words. 

“I’m not there, so you can’t breathe with me so-” there’s shuffling on the other end of the comms, “just try to breathe in time with the taps, okay?” 

For a minute there he’s very confused, because what taps? But then a gentle tapping noise comes across the comms, like Hope is tapping her pencil against a desk. “In,” she says with the first tap, and it takes Scott a second, but he sucks in a breath. “Out,” with the next tap. He pushes the air out with an exhale that really shouldn’t have been so much of a struggle. 

He is still gasping for breath and going to fast, taking at least two breaths for each of Hope’s taps, but it’s getting marginally better. The nausea and cold is going away, and slowly he’s able to focus on more of the room. 

“You’re okay, Scott, everything’s fine,” Hope repeats along with the “In, Out,” and the tapping. 

It takes several minutes, and Hope must be so annoyed with him, but eventually his breathing evens out and he’s just sitting against the wall, shaking slightly. 

“Scott, are you okay?” she asks again once she can’t hear the hyperventilating. 

Scott shoves himself to his unsteady feet. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just a minor panic attack. It’s all good,” he’s pretty sure that this is incredibly unconvincing, but Hope can’t actually see him, so maybe she’ll buy it. 

She doesn’t buy it. “Scott, I think you should get out, forget the mission,”

“No, no, I got this,” he stumbles forward. 

“Scott.” Hope doesn’t sound like she’ll be taking any argument. “You are coming back right now.”

“Hope, I can do this, I’m okay. I swear,” Scott really did not want to move right now. He mostly wants to curl up into a ball and sleep for a few years. Or avoid all work and human contact. But he isn’t going to let everyone down. He wasn’t that much of a fuck-up. Probably. 

“Scott, I am driving over there now. Get out and meet me in front of the building in five minutes. Then I will drive you home, give you a hug, and you will go to sleep. Got it?”

Scott nods. “Yeah, I got it.”

He feels like shit, because of the panic attack, and for leaving the mission, but he doesn’t have the energy to fight Hope on this. He probably couldn’t change her mind on something even when he felt like a functioning human being. 

He also really doesn’t feel like shrinking right now. He’s not panicking now, but he’s not back to one hundred percent either. He wanders slowly towards the entrance of the building, not caring about the alarms he's tripping or the weird looks he's getting. 

Hope waves at him from her car, and he slips inside, closes the door and slumps down against the window. She doesn’t say anything, just watches him with a little concern, and he’s grateful. He doesn’t want to explain panic disorders right now, doesn’t want her to pull him from missions because she thinks he can’t handle it, doesn’t want her to worry about him. 

She drops him off at home with a hug and a promise to talk, which Scott is kind of dreading. 

As he is about to go inside, “Scott, remember, I’m here to help. We all want to help. Even Hank. And even if that help is shutting the hell up and backing off, we’re here. And you’re a good person. You’re going to be okay.”

These words don’t fix anything, and he knows he won’t find it easy to talk to anyone or explain what he has and what he needs, but they make him smile. And at least for the rest of today, Hope is right (like always). He’s going to be okay.


End file.
